


Straight Out of the Closet

by TheNightWeaver



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: M/M, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Tim and Martin fuck in a closet, Trans Male Character, Trans Martin Blackwood, Vaginal Fingering, Workplace Sex, that's is that's the fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-21
Updated: 2020-04-21
Packaged: 2021-03-02 00:40:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,800
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23766286
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheNightWeaver/pseuds/TheNightWeaver
Summary: Tim and Martin decide to have some fun in a closet during work.
Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Tim Stoker
Comments: 5
Kudos: 179





	Straight Out of the Closet

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Bloodsbane](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bloodsbane/gifts).



> We back it again with the MarTim, lads. 
> 
> Also, just a note, in this fic Martin is trans and his genitalia and chest are to referred to with feminine terms (ie cunt, clit, tits) and there is one point where Tim calls Martin a slut.
> 
> Thank you for reading!

This wasn’t new between them, not really.

Tim and Martin had fooled around before, usually at Tim’s flat, sometimes at Martin’s. Once, when Tim had gotten _very_ lucky, they’d fucked in document storage after everyone else had gone home, Martin laid out against the cheap sheets of the cot and utterly debauched. Tim still got hard when he let himself think about it for any extended period of time.

So yeah, the whole thing where they fucked and made out wasn’t a recent development. The novelty of a lot of it had worn off, familiarity and ease slowly beginning to spawn in its place. Tim knew what Martin liked, what kind of reaction a touch here or a kiss there would typically elicit.

That didn’t mean they couldn’t still find new things to try, though.

“This is so stupid,” Martin said. He didn’t try to pull his hand out of Tim’s as Tim dragged him along.

“I mean, maybe,” Tim ceded. “I’d like to think we’re going about this intelligently, at least. More or less.”

“Definitely less, I’d say.”

“We don’t have to—”

“N-no, I. I want to. I’m just… well.”

“Nervous.”

“Yeah. A bit.”

Tim turned to look at Martin, took in his expression. His cheeks were red and his brow was somewhat furrowed, but his eyes were bright and, dare Tim think it, _excited._ “If we’re not into it—either of us—then we can stop. No hard feelings, no questions asked.”

Martin’s lips quirked up into a shy smile. “I imagine there will be _some_ questions.”

“Maybe afterwards, but not about stopping. And definitely no demands.”

“Yeah. I know. I-I guess I was trying to make a joke? But I don’t think that I—”

“No, I got that,” Tim assured. “I just wanted to make sure that… you know. You knew.”

Martin’s smile widened. “I do.”

Tim grinned back. “Come on. We still have to find a decent closet.”

Martin’s face reddened further but gave a nod all the same.

Tim had meant what he had said—for two people who were trying to find a closet at their workplace to fuck in, they _were_ being smart about it. Sasha was out for a dentist appointment and would be for the rest of the day. Jon was holed up in his office and the chances of him coming out of it before the sun had set were next to none. And the only other person that even came down into the archives was Elias and (after a quick, casual chat with Rosie) Tim knew that he was in and out of meetings with investors all day long.

Really, the stars had aligned for them and Tim was fully intent on taking advantage of this opportunity.

“What about—what about that one?”

Tim glanced at Martin and let his eyes drift to where he was pointing. It was a perfectly regular door that looked as though it led to a utility closet. Tim let go of Martin’s hand and walked over to open it. It _was_ a utility closet, maybe just large enough for two people to stand in if they didn’t mind getting cozy with one another, which Tim very much didn’t. There were shelves along the back wall, surfaces scattered over with wipes, boxes of pens, paper towels, packages of staples, and other various odds and ends. Even with the smattering of supplies, the whole thing was pretty empty. Tim wasn’t really surprised by that, if he was being honest. He and Martin had wandered towards the edges of the area that made up the archives and there were at least three other closets that were between this one and the main offices. It made sense that this one wasn’t being kept well-stocked or used all too frequently.

It was _perfect_.

“Martin, you’re a genius.”

That got a laugh out of Martin. “I’m really not. I just—”

“Nope, you’re a genius,” Tim interrupted. “You’re the one who found it so you get the credit.”

Martin giggled sweetly at that and Tim couldn’t stop his own answering grin.

“Now come on, get over here so I can pull you in and ravish you.”

Martin rolled his eyes and walked over.

Once he was in reach, Tim slung an arm around Martin’s shoulders and pulled Martin against him. They shuffled into the closet and Tim closed the door behind him. It closed with a little _click!_ and they were engulfed in darkness.

They stood there for a few moments, pressed against each other in the small space. Tim willed his eyes to adjust to the darkness and focused on the feeling of Martin’s chest rising and falling against his own.

“… Now what?”

“Now we make out for a bit,” Tim answered easily. “Ease into it. Then I get your trousers and pants down and fingerblast you until you squeal.”

“… _Oh._ ”

“Yeah. That sound good?”

Martin didn’t bother to say anything. Tim just felt big, warm hands cup his face and then Martin was kissing him.

He’d missed, just a bit, lips landing on the corner of Tim’s mouth in the dark. They quickly readjusted, mouths slotting together in a familiar dance.

Tim didn’t waste any time before licking his way into Martin’s mouth and nipping at his lips, wringing out lovely little sighs and soft moans. His hands had found themselves resting on Martin’s hips without any real conscious thought. Tim waited until he felt Martin go warm and pliant against him before moving the one to drift across the front of Martin’s jeans, stopping once it had slipped between Martin’s thighs. Martin gasped, his mouth parting as he did.

“Still good?” Tim checked.

“Very,” Martin exhaled, voice breathy and wobbly.

“I’m going to take these off now.”

“Please.”

Tim made quick work of undoing buttons and taking down the zipper of Martin’s jeans, Martin pressing kisses along the side of Tim’s face all the while. Tim grabbed onto the fabric, slipping them and Martin’s pants down until they were halfway down his thighs.

“Spread your legs a bit for me?” Tim whispered.

Martin whimpered and Tim felt him move more than he saw it. The space between Martin’s thighs grew and his head knocked gently against the side of Tim’s neck.

Tim leaded his head against Martin’s and let his right hand press firmly into the now-bare skin of Martin’s inner thigh. “Good boy.”

Tim grinned at the way Martin’s breath hitched and let his hand trail upwards, slowly and steadily.

Martin’s breathing was an audible thing by the time Tim’s hand reached the crease where Martin’s thigh met his torso. He gave a moment’s pause—to let Martin adjust? To give Martin a chance to do something? To tease? Tim wasn’t entirely sure himself—before letting his hand drift inwards and press firmly against the heat of Martin’s cunt.

Martin was already wet. Just from making out and a little petting.

 _Fuck_ if that wasn’t hot as hell.

“You’re fucking _soaked_ ,” Tim breathed out, almost reverent. “Were you just gagging for it, even while you were worried about it? Just from imagining my fingers in your greedy little cunt?”

Martin’s shallow, heavy breaths washed over the crook of Tim’s neck as Tim ran two fingers over Martin silky, wet folds. As much as it pained him to do so, he withdrew his fingers—only a centimeter or two, but it was enough for Martin to whine at the loss and buck his hips forward.

“Uh-uh, I asked you a question, sweetheart. I’m going to need an answer,” Tim reminded him, the smug and salacious tone of his voice filling the small space. At Martin’s shaky inhale, Tim leaned forward to nibble at the space of skin where Martin’s ear met his jaw. It was too dark to properly make out colors, but Tim knew for certain that Martin’s face was a brilliant crimson—he was so close that he could _feel_ the heat of it. “Come on, tell me just how much you want my fingers.”

“Please, _please,_ ” Martin pleaded. “P-please, Tim. I want it so bad. _Please._ ”

Tim’s fingers twitched, cock throbbing at Martin’s voice. He pulled back enough to make out the outline of Martin’s face in the darkness. “Christ, I love you begging for me, it’s so fucking good. But I’m gonna need a bit more than that if you want something in you.”

“N-need your fingers,” Martin _whimpered,_ his words high and breathy and desperate. “W-wanna be _full_ so bad, p-please, fuck me, _please._ ”

Tim swallowed heavily, letting his fingers come back to touch feather-light at Martin’s folds. “You’re a slut for it, aren’t you? Say it, that you’re a slut for it.”

“I-I’m a—a slut for it,” Martin gasped out. “A-always a s-slut for you.”

Tim inhaled sharply, the words going right to his prick, quickly tucking two fingers up into Martin without warning. Martin was so loose and _wet,_ crying out as Tim’s fingers slid in with almost no resistance. The sound filled what little space in the closet there was, practically ringing in Tim’s ears and settling hot and tight in his stomach.

With great reluctance, Tim’s free hand moved to cover Martin’s mouth. “Love the noises you make for me, Martin, but you have to be quiet, okay? Don’t want anyone coming to look, do we?”

Martin made a high, reedy sound from behind Tim’s hand as Tim gently thrusted his fingers in and out of Martin’s cunt. He pulled his hand away from Martin's face and replaced it with his mouth, swallowing up every one of Martin’s whimpers and moans that threatened to spill into the air.

They kissed like they would never be able to do it again, wild and ravenous and sloppy. It was almost frenzied, more tongue and friction and _heat_ than anything else. Tim composed himself just enough to pull back and bite at Martin's bottom lip, doing so as hard as he dared without breaking the skin. Martin gasped against him and Tim took the opportunity to shove his tongue into Martin's open mouth. Martin eagerly allowed it, pressing his tongue against Tim’s as his whole body shuddered. Tim could feel the way Martin quivered against him and let his hand slip from Martin’s cheek up into his hair, grabbing a fistful of it and holding tight. All the while, Tim kept up the steady rhythm of his fingers moving inside Martin, only faltering when Martin made a particularly delightful noise or moved his mouth in a way that made Tim moan right back. 

The noises they made were muffled and smothered, but in the relative silence of the small, stuffy closet they sounded as loud and clear as a gunshot. Every hitch of Martin’s breath, every wavering mewl, every wet sound as Tim worked his fingers in and out—it was all a roaring symphony composed and performed just for him. 

Tim broke the kiss and pulled his mouth away from Martin’s, chuckling softly as Martin whined at the loss of contact and pulled against the hand Tim had in his hair. Tim tightened his hold and tugged at Martin’s hair until Martin titled his head back, baring his throat. Tim leaned in and let his tongue find Martin’s fluttering pulse, nibbling at it gently before running his tongue over it. Martin groaned, the trembling sound coming to life under Tim’s lips. Tim pressed his mouth against Martin’s skin and hummed into it, Martin moaning once again in response. Tim sucked into it, pulling just a _bit_ harder at Martin’s hair. 

Martin whimpered and rolled his hips against Tim’s hand. It was only then that Tim realized he’d stopped pumping his fingers into Martin.

“Sorry, sweetheart,” Tim breathed out, letting his breath fan over Martin’s throat. He untangled his hand from Martin’s hair and let it rest on the back of Martin’s neck. “I got distracted. You’re being so good and needy for me. Didn’t even realize I’d stopped. How about I make it up to you? Give you another one for being so nice and patient with me.”

Tim felt more than he saw Martin nod, hair and skin brushing over Tim’s face with the movement. Tim smiled into the crook of Martin’s throat.

“There’s a good boy.”

Martin just shivered and let out a muted sob.

Tim laid another open-mouthed kiss on Martin’s throat as he pulled his hand back far enough to slip a third finger alongside the two that were soaked from being inside of Martin. He moved his head back to stare at the spot where he knew all three of them were being swallowed up by Martin’s slick, pink entrance. Tim couldn’t make out anything except for the vaguest impressions of movement in the dark of the closet, but he couldn’t bring himself to look anywhere else.

Martin gasped out in soft, short bursts as Tim’s fingers slid further and further in, ducking his head down and pressing it into Tim’s shoulder. Tim could feel the damp sheen of sweat on Martin’s forehead and the warmth of Martin’s shallow breath on his skin. Tim kept pushing in, Martin hot and wet around his fingers. It was tighter fit than it had been before, that was for sure, but Martin’s cunt was practically dripping for it and Tim met little resistance. Tim pressed his fingers in as far as he could, Martin letting out a weak, strangled sound and clenching down on him like a vice.

“You _do_ have a greedy little hole, don’t you? Look at how tight you’re holding onto my fingers; it’s like you never want to let them go.”

Martin only panted into Tim’s shoulder, rocking his hips mindlessly against Tim’s still fingers.

“Oh, do you want me to move them for you?” Tim asked, his voice a parody of innocence. Tim just chuckled at Martin’s resulting whimper. “I know it’s hard, but you’ve got to use your words for me. How will I know what you want otherwise?”

“P-p- _please_ ,” Martin wheezed out. “Please m- _move_.”

Tim winked. “Happy to oblige.”

Tim curled his fingers, pressing against the hot, wet walls inside of Martin. Martin jerked at the movement, whining as Tim drew out and then groaning when he thrust back in. Martin’s head shifted downwards to rest on Tim’s chest as his hands scrambled clumsily from Tim’s waist to his shoulders. Martin’s fingers dug into Tim’s skin through the fabric of his shirt, gripping on tightly.

And then Martin was all but bouncing on Tim’s fingers as they fucked into him.

Tim felt his breath catch because _fuck,_ Martin was always so hot when he got desperate like this. Tim chanced a glance down to Martin’s chest, but it was hidden by his shirt and flattened down by his binder. Tim would have _loved_ to see Martin’s tits bounce against his chest, had always adored the way they grew red and swung heavily, but no, not this time. Tim had other plans.

Martin’s obscene little wails and mewls had spiked in frequency and grown in volume. Martin was always so goddamn loud, especially when he was close to coming. Tim could never quite seem to get enough of it, relished having such a vocal partner. And judging by the noises Martin was making now and how Tim could feel slick leaking all down his hand? Oh, Martin was _close._

But Tim was feeling just the slightest bit mean.

“You’re not happy with this, are you? You want _more,_ don’t you? Just how much would it take to satisfy you? At this rate, you’ll be taking my whole goddamn fist and still begging for more.”

Martin cried out, an incoherent sound filled with desperation and want. It was loud, louder than any other noise either of them had made thus far, but Tim couldn’t bring himself to care, not when Martin sounded like that. Besides, Martin was so far gone that Tim was sure that any reminder to be quiet would be lost on him.

“I’ll take that as a yes, then.”

Tim pulled his hand back out, cut off Martin’s moan of protest by quickly slipping his pinky in and sliding back in. Martin was so wet that there wasn’t even any resistance, just an easy glide as Tim breached him. Martin was stretched tight around his fingers now, the noises he made nothing short of absolutely wrecked. Tim buried his nose into Martin’s hair, damp with sweat and the faintest lingering scent of flowery soap. Tim breathed in, fast and deep, as he mercilessly thrusted his fingers into Martin. Tim shifted blindly for a few moments before he finally felt Martin’s thigh brush against his cock, only separated by mere layers of fabric. He felt his hips jerk forward and then he was grinding against Martin while Martin frantically humped his fingers.

Tim felt his head swim, overheated and dizzy. The world felt fuzzy and surreal and desperately, painfully _good_.

Tim inhaled, sharp as a knife, as he felt Martin’s teeth close around the skin of his shoulder. Could hear Martin letting out a loud, muffled sound somewhere in between a scream and a sob. Felt how Martin clenched and fluttered around his fingers, how Martin pressed as close as he could, how Martin shuddered against him and rolled against the fingers buried inside of him, how Martin’s slick further soaked his hand. Tim couldn’t help the little whimper he gave in response, some rational but vague part of his mind distantly hoping that the door of the closet was thick enough to obscure the noises they were making.

Martin’s gentle rocking eventually slowed to a stop, teeth unlatching from Tim. He was breathing heavily, taking in short, soft gasps as he clutched to Tim. Tim wasn’t doing much better, chest heaving and breaths mingling with Martin’s in the small, stuffy space. Tim’s aching cock gave a twitch and he choked down another whine.

“Good?” Tim asked, almost panting around the word.

“Mhm,” Martin hummed, nodding against him.

“I’m gonna pull out now, mkay?”

“Mm.”

Tim swallowed at the wet, obscene squelching noise as he slowly dragged his fingers out of Martin. Christ, Martin was going to be the death of him and he wasn’t even _trying._ Martin gave a shuddering sigh once Tim’s fingers were finally pulled free. Tim debated bringing them up to his own mouth and licking off the mess, but he was certain that if he did he’d end up coming on the spot in his own trousers.

Which, now that he thought about it, didn’t sound like a terrible idea.

He was pulled from his thoughts when he felt Martin shift against him, raising his head to look up at Tim. Martin blinked once, twice, his eyes growing more focused as he did. He smiled, a gentle and tender curve of his mouth, before leaning forward and kissing Tim’s lips with a level of chasteness that should have felt completely at odds with what they’d been doing. But it wasn’t. It just felt… nice. Right.

“What do you need?” Martin asked, breathing the words against Tim’s lips.

“ _Fuck,_ I just—I need to come. I’m going to fucking burst.”

Martin pushed his cheek against Tim’s, nuzzled him. “Want my mouth?”

Tim almost gasped. “Always. Better move fast, I don’t think—”

Martin was on his knees with Tim’s cock in his hand before Tim even registered that he’d moved. Brought the one hand to curl into Martin’s hair, took the other one covered in Martin’s slick into his mouth and sucked on them as Martin licked at his slit.

Then Martin had his mouth around Tim’s cock and that was it.

Tim forced himself to take his fingers out of his mouth. “F-fuck, fuck, I’m—”

Martin swallowed him down as he came. Tim shoved his fingers down his throat again to cut off his scream, stars dancing across the back of his eyelids.

Tim floated for a bit, blissful and content in the postorgasmatic haze. He slowly came back to himself, letting his hands fall to his sides and feeling Martin’s mouth still wrapped around his spent cock, warm and velvety. Tim groaned at the sensation, oversensitive and aching. Martin, sweet and kind, pulled off of him gently. Tim grabbed at him, trying to pull him up. Martin complied, only just getting to his feet before Tim was dragging him in for another kiss, slow and languid and warm.

They eventually pulled apart, breathing at an average rate and still so close.

Tim broke the quiet first. “That was _really_ fucking hot.”

“… Yeah,” Martin said. “It was. Ended up being better than I thought it’d be, actually.”

“Martin, Martin. We’ve talked about this, you need to raise your expectations.”

Martin huffed out a little laugh. “No, um. It’s a compliment. They were, uh, pretty high going in.”

“Oh. _Oh._ I see.”

“Stop grinning. I should have known better than to say that, it’ll just go straight to your head.”

“It’s dark, you couldn’t possibly—”

“I don’t need to see it to know that you _are._ ”

Tim couldn’t help but laugh at that because, yeah, he had been.

“Oh, hush.”

“No, no. I’m just—happy. It’s good.”

“Sure.” Tim could practically _hear_ Martin rolling his eyes as he said that.

“It is!”

“Mhm. Now come on, we need to get dressed and get back to the office before anyone realizes we’re gone.”

“Oh, they won’t—”

“Now, Tim.”

Tim sighed dramatically as he complied, hearing and feeling Martin brush against him as he did the same. Once Martin let him know he was ready, Tim opened the door.

He blinked harshly against the bright light of the hallway, stumbling outside. His eyes adjusted quickly—it wasn’t _that_ bright down in the basement, after all—and found Martin.

Martin was closing the closet door and looking thoroughly ravished, hair all messed up and lips bruised and red. Tim stepped towards him and started combing his hands through Martin’s hair, trying to straighten it out at least a little.

“Oh god, is it bad?”

“Not really,” Tim told him. “How’s mine?”

Martin looked at the top of Tim’s head in consideration. “Fine, actually. Probably because _I_ wasn’t grabbing at it.”

“I didn’t hear you complaining.”

“I’m not.”

Tim smiled as he finished fixing Martin’s hair. It was a far cry from being neat, but it no longer looked like Martin had just walked out of a closet after a good fuck. Tim gave himself a quick mental pat on the back.

“Well,” Tim said, “if you _insist_ that we get back to work—”

“I do.”

“—Then lead the way.”

Martin graced him with one last sunny smile before turning and walking back towards their offices. Tim followed happily.


End file.
